


Sneaky Crafter

by angelskuuipo



Series: There's blue ships and red ships, but there's no ship like friendship [5]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Crochet, Domestic Fluff, GFY, Gen, Gift Fic, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:38:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelskuuipo/pseuds/angelskuuipo
Summary: Summary: Someone’s being crafty and leaving handmade gifts around for no apparent reason.  It’s freaking Eliot out.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonydreams/gifts).



> Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are not mine. The story, however, is. Please do not copy or repost anywhere without my express permission.
> 
> Written for my fabulous friend and beta, Dragonydreams (Elisabeth), in honor of her birthday. Happy Birthday, BB! This is not any of the fandoms/pairings that you gave me, but I do hope you like it. Once again, life is informing art. :) Big thanks to Shanachie for looking this over.
> 
> Written: October 3, 2016  
> Word Count: 1,087

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It started with potholders.

Eliot walked into the brew pub’s kitchen one October morning and found four sets of crocheted squares on his prep table. He stared at them for a long moment before cautiously picking one up. He was surprised by the weight before he realized whoever had made them had slipped a square of neoprene inside to improve the heat resistance. Flipping it over, he found a pocket for his hand to fit into. He tried it out, opening and closing his hand and nodded in satisfaction. They flexed easily, but felt sturdy and the yarn was soft and not too bulky. He picked up a sheet pan and the hold was solid and comfortable. These would come in handy, no pun intended.

The only question was, who made them?

~*~

Hardison stared at the table where his laptop sat. Next to it was a scarf, hat, and gloves done in blues and grays that he’d never seen before. The set was obviously handmade, he’d watched his Nana work with yarn often enough to know, and it was really good work, too.

He picked up one of the gloves, smiling unconsciously at the feel of the soft chenille. He tried it on and was only mildly surprised that it fit him perfectly. He was more surprised at the feel of the silk lining inside. That would definitely help keep his hands warm. As he looked closer, he saw that the tips of the fingers could all be pulled back so he could still use his tablet or phone without having to take them off completely. Awesome.

He looked at the hat and found the same silk lining inside before he tried it on. Oh yeah. That felt _good_. Finally, he shook out the scarf and he laughed. It was a Doctor Who scarf. It wasn’t the right colors, but it was definitely the right length.

Whoever had done this had put in some serious effort and Hardison really wanted to thank them.

But who was it?

~*~

Four afghans showed up in the living room next, folded neatly over the back of the couch. Each was a different pattern and each of them was ridiculously soft. When Hardison opened one up he found that it was big enough for him, Parker, and Eliot to curl up under together if they wanted to.

Eliot stood there with his hands on his hips, glaring at the new additions.

Hardison tilted his head and looked at his friend curiously even as he petted the afghan in his arms like a cat. “Eliot, man, why are you trying to set the blankets on fire with your eyes?”

“How’d they get here? Who made them? Who the hell is playing craft fairy?”

Hardison frowned. “Does it matter? Someone’s doing something nice for us. You haven’t bitched about burning your hands in weeks and I feel like I’m in heaven every time I put my new gloves on. I think we should just say thank you and enjoy them.”

Eliot switched his glare to Hardison. “Does it matter? Of course it matters! I mean, yeah, the gifts are nice, but someone is getting into _our house_ and we don’t know who! The alarms haven’t gone off and there’s nothing on the security footage, which means whoever it is…” he trailed off and Hardison could almost see the light bulb go off over his head.

“Parker!” Eliot barked.

They both heard a little squeak and then Parker dropped down from the ceiling, landing like a cat; another handmade blanket floated down after her. She straightened, rubbing at her eyes, and mumbled through a yawn, “You bellowed?”

Before Eliot could start whatever tirade he had planned, Hardison asked, “Were you sleeping in the rafters again?”

Parker just nodded and stared at Eliot.

Eliot glowered at her and opened his mouth, but closed it before he spoke. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally he asked in a much calmer voice, “Are you the one who’s been making all this stuff?”

“Yeah. Since my shoulder and knee were messed up and I couldn’t move much, I needed to keep my hands busy. Keep my dexterity sharp. Crocheting helped. I was having trouble sleeping and...yeah.”

Eliot winced at the reminder of Parker getting hurt on one of their last jobs. It had been pure bad luck and shoddy construction, nothing he could have prevented, but that didn’t stop him from feeling a little guilty.

Parker smacked him in the arm. “Stop that. Stop acting like it was your fault. You didn’t build that deathtrap, Wallace is in jail now, and I’m _fine_. I’m all healed up. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it was me making stuff. I thought you’d figure it out. It’s not like there are a lot of choices.”

Eliot ducked his head and scuffed his boot across the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It never crossed my mind that you might be into crocheting and knitting. Thank you for the potholders. They’re great.”

Hardison moved closer and gave Parker a one-armed hug. “Yeah, Mama. Thank you for my gloves and stuff. I love ‘em. And these blankets feel like the best kind of hug.”

Parker smiled her little half-smile and leaned into him. “You’re welcome. I should have Eliot’s set done soon. I had trouble finding the right kind of yarn, but I finally got it sorted.”

Eliot’s eyes lit up. As concerned as he’d been about the random craft projects showing up, he would admit- if only to himself- that he was a little jealous that Hardison had gotten a hat and gloves and he hadn’t. After all, he wore them a lot more than Hardison did.

“Thanks, Parker.”

Parker yawned again in lieu of answering and Hardison said, “I vote we try out these blankets and watch a movie.”

Eliot shrugged. “Sure, the pub’s covered for the day.”

Hardison settled on one end of the couch and Eliot settled on the other. Parker grabbed a pillow from one of the arm chairs and tossed it into Hardison’s lap. She stretched out between them with her feet in Eliot’s lap and her head in Hardison’s and fell asleep before the opening credits of whatever they’d chosen was finished rolling.

Eliot ran his hand over the blanket he’d chosen. Hardison was right, it was like being wrapped up in a hug.

Eliot finally relaxed and enjoyed the movie.

-30-


End file.
